


Desert and Sea

by jedicallie (writergirlie)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirlie/pseuds/jedicallie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Working on a tracker he'd gotten from the Jawas... he'd talked... And hesitantly, a sentence or two at a time... Callista had been slowly drawn out..." -- excerpt from <i>Children of the Jedi</i> (Barbara Hambly)</p><p>A brief interlude set during the time of CotJ when Luke and Callista were just getting to know each other on the <i>Eye of Palpatine.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert and Sea

**Author's Note:**

> For Siobhan, as always, and my fellow Callistars. This one's for you, kids :).
> 
> Special thanks to two people without whom stories like this would even exist: George Lucas, who created this brilliant universe to begin with (it's your playground, George; I only play in it), and Barbara Hambly, who created the only book character who, in my humble opinion, deserves to stand alongside the canon ones.

_Walking through a dream, I see you_

_A light in darkness, breathing hope of new life_

_Now I live through you and you through me, enchanting…_

_I pray in my heart that this dream never ends..._

\-- “I See You” (Leona Lewis)

 

 

 

 

 

&gt;Wormie…&lt;

 

 &gt;That’s what they called you? Doesn’t seem like a very nice name…&lt;

 

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity—or at the very least in the last day or two, though he had lost all track of time since being brought on board this tin can with a sadistic bent—Luke laughed.

 

It felt good to laugh. Felt good to be thinking about something else—anything else—than the constant throb of agony that was his near-shattered, infected leg, or the ticking time bomb that awaited Cray if he couldn’t somehow get this foo-twitter to work, or the lingering stench of Sand People in the corridors, though they had not shown themselves since his last encounter with them. Most of all, it felt good to be in the company of someone who didn’t already presume to know all about him from the various personas that had long taken on a life of their own, without any of his doing: the legendary Luke Skywalker, Hotshot Pilot and Rebel Hero; Luke Skywalker, revered Jedi Master; Luke Skywalker, Son of Fallen Jedi, Anakin Skywalker.

 

Luke Skywalker, Last Hope of the Alliance.

 

For once, he could let someone get to know him as just… Luke.

 

“Yeah, well, I think that was sort of the point,” he said, smiling to himself as he twisted the screwdriver into the back of the voder box. Tricky little thing it was. His fingers were almost numb from gripping the screwdriver so tightly to maintain a light touch; any more force applied and it would damage the voder box entirely and then this whole operation would be rendered useless. “I wasn’t exactly part of what you’d call the ‘in’ crowd back home.”

 

There was a pause, a slightly longer one than he had been expecting. He wondered whether Callista had found the throwaway remark offensive in some way, if somehow his humor hadn’t carried over in the way he’d been intending. Then a moment later, the screen glowed once more, amber letters rising from the depths of black.

 

&gt;That can’t have been too fun.&lt;

 

&gt;Being on the outside like that.&lt;

 

He was surprised by her sympathy. And a little touched. It had been years since he’d even thought about the whole thing—time had dulled the ache of his awkward adolescence and replaced it with a more wistful sadness for the things that had passed. Emotions seemed a lot simpler then, uncomplicated by all that awaited him, the experiences to come that would rock his very foundation and forever change the way he’d view his life. His very self.

 

He shrugged almost instinctively, as though she were in the room with him. In a sense, she was.

 

“You know what they say. What doesn’t kill you…”

 

 &gt;… makes you into a jumble of neuroses.&lt;

 

Laughter burst forth from him, escaping his lungs like a caged bird suddenly given unexpected freedom, and Threepio, who had switched to reserve mode to conserve as much power as possible and probably wasn’t expecting such a spontaneous outburst from his master, was startled awake, eyes lighting up immediately and head jerking upwards and swiveling in his direction.

 

“Sir?”

 

“Sorry, Threepio. Everything’s fine.”

 

Luke glanced back at the screen. Callista had conjured up a geometric pattern that looked suspiciously like a wink.

 

“What about you, were you Miss Popularity back home?”

 

Silence again. Luke immediately regretted the question. He was about to apologize for prying, when her answer came, the words slightly smaller than her normal font.

 

&gt;Just Papa and I on the ark. And my stepmother, too, though she may as well have been invisible most of the time, the way she kept her distance from Papa and me.&lt;

 

Luke suddenly felt the need to reach through the computer terminal and touch her hand. He thought he could almost feel the unshed tears pooling in her eyes. Wherever she was, somewhere, she was in pain. He sensed her unspoken gratitude from beyond the chasm, spreading through him like the warmth of a slow-burning sun, and he almost whispered, “I'm sorry it had to be that way.”

 

&gt;Uncle Claine stayed with us during herding season. I suppose he liked me well enough. I did my best to entertain him.&lt;

 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I could have used that kind of entertainment back in Anchorhead.”

 

He had an inkling that if only she could have, she would have blushed just then. He felt his own cheeks start to burn, grateful that the light in this abandoned, gutted captain's quarters that Callista had corralled him in to keep him out of harm's way from the Sand People and Klagg hunters was sufficiently low for her to see anything more than the half-grin on his face. If Deak and Windy and Fixer had been here to witness his somewhat clumsy attempt at flirting, he’d’ve never heard the end of it. Camie, too—she’d be the worst one, by far. Still, he had to admit he was enjoying it.

 

&gt;Wouldn't have taken much, then?&lt;

 

The half-grin moved into a full one, then led to a small chuckle. He shook his head, his growing shag of hair falling into his eyes.

 

“You take a couple of desert rats like us and put them in a out-of-the-way town with nothing but a game hall, yeah, I’d say the bar was set pretty low for entertainment.”

 

The screen shimmered with a lattice-work of asterisks and ampersands. Laughter, he realized. Her laughter. He smiled again. He was able to make her laugh, and somewhere inside him, pride swelled.

 

&gt;I can’t really imagine it... the desert.&lt;

 

She paused, as though trying to process it.

 

&gt;I grew up with nothing but water and ice surrounding me.&lt;

 

Luke saw her in his mind’s eye: a young girl with a full crown of dark, unruly curls, sprayed with mist from the sea, laughing as tsaelke splashed by.

 

“You were a little mer-girl,” he said, smiling.

 

&gt;Yes, I suppose I was.&lt;

 

He could almost hear the sigh in her voice. The longing and the affection in the words.

 

Softly, carefully, hoping he wouldn’t alienate her with the question, he said, “Callista... can I ask you something?”

 

&gt;Yes, of course.&lt;

 

“Can I ask what your last name is?”

 

The screen went dark and he felt his heart sink with disappointment. Then the letters slowly swam up to the surface, undulating like the waves of the oceans from where she came.

 

&gt;Masana&lt;

 

&gt;My full name is Callista Masana.&lt;

 

Luke smiled and set down the screwdriver, forgetting all about the voder box for the moment. “Nice to meet you, Callista Masana,” he said. “You know... I think we would have been good friends if we had known each other...”

 

Another pause.

 

&gt;I think we’re on our way now...&lt;

 

He nodded, feeling her presence fill him, envelop him—a strange, but comforting sensation he couldn't quite wrap his head around, much less describe. So he just let it wash over him. Water mingling with the sand.

 

“I think you’re right.”


End file.
